


Sleep

by someonestolemyshoes



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Morning Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 04:26:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12548800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someonestolemyshoes/pseuds/someonestolemyshoes
Summary: It’s too early to consider getting up. He dances on the very edges of sleep, eyelids heavy, fluttering as his dreams lull him in, alluring, and threatening with every leaden blink to pull him under once more.But there is something more distracting in the room; something even more promising than sleep.**A sleepy morning encounter





	Sleep

 

The morning is warm. The air feels weighty, resting like a blanket, soft and pleasantly heavy; a cocoon, safety from the cool spring breeze beyond their little windows. It’s still early, the first light of morning milky with fog, and with the early hour comes a comfortable quiet—silence, almost, save for the brightest risers of the day birds, uttering the occasional peep and chirp from the depths of the trees, and the soft hush of the wind, and, in the distance, an engine, taking up the whole road while the rest of the world sleeps on.

And within their room, the quiet is permeated only by the hum of the heating, chasing off the chill; by the gentlest whisper of breath, deep and heavy with sleep; and by the rustle of the sheets as Hinata stirs himself awake, stretching beneath the bedclothes.

It’s too early to consider getting up. He dances on the very edges of sleep, eyelids heavy, fluttering as his dreams lull him in, alluring, and threatening with every leaden blink to pull him under once more.

But there is something more distracting in the room; something even more promising than sleep.

It presses up the length of him, hot and inviting at his back, warm and winding about his legs, and solid, curled about his chest with a steady, sleepy hold.

In sleep, Kageyama tightens his grip, squeezing the arm around Hinata’s waist and pulling him impossibly closer. He nuzzles his face into the crook of Hinata’s neck; Hinata can feel every little part of him, from the tickle of his lashes to the point of his nose, to his lips, dry in sleep, but still invitingly _soft_ where they press to his bare shoulder.

Hinata hums quietly, and pushes back into Kageyama’s sleepy morning touch. Down the hard line of Kageyama’s body, there is something so obviously _pressing_ , hot and sturdy—bare, damp skin that digs into Hinata’s lower back. He smiles lazily, and wiggles his hips back into Kageyama’s own. Kageyama grunts into his shoulder.

“Mornin’,” Hinata says. His voice is hoarse with disuse, heavy with sleep. The muscles of Kageyama’s strong legs tighten, stretching out, disentangling for a moment from Hinata’s own. His hardness shifts, and instead of pressing to the small of Hinata’s back, it nudges now far lower, between the soft flesh of his thighs.

Hinata lets him in, lifting a leg up, back, to graze at Kageyama’s thigh while Kageyama gets comfortable. He seems almost unaware of what it is his body is doing, unphased by the pressure around his length as Hinata lowers his leg back down again—he must feel it, though, and in his sleepy state he lets out a moan, soft and croaky, and presses his hips absently forward.

“Morning,” Kageyama says, thickly. “Time ‘s it?”

Hinata squints in the direction of the bedside table. There is a clock there, somewhere, one with bright red digits and a ringing scream to wake them, but Hinata’s eyes are too fuzzy to find it, and so instead he shrugs, and nestles deeper into the pillows.

“Early,” he says.

“Sleep,” Kageyama says. He already sounds like he is drifting, dreamy and far away. Hinata bows his spine to stretch, and grinds himself back, until his hips are flush with Kageyama’s own, the pink, leaking head of his length pressed tight behind Hinata’s balls. He hums once more, and Kageyama grunts, his body spasming.

“You sure?” Hinata says. He rolls his hips in a lazy, languid circle, and Kageyama chokes into the skin of his neck, nuzzling deeper.

“Tired,” Kageyama says. Hinata knows this to be true; Kageyama’s days, of late, have been rough—a never-ending regime, caught between classes and tests and papers, between practice, between matches, between work—and rest, Hinata knows, is what he needs.

But even as Kageyama insists they sleep longer, his hips keep on rocking slowly, in tandem with Hinata’s gentle little gyrations.

“I know,” Hinata says, softly. Still, he doesn’t stop, and Kageyama doesn’t ask that he does. Instead, he holds him tighter, and ruts a little harder between Hinata’s clamped thighs.

Everything is blissfully hazy. Hinata drifts, caught somewhere between wake and sleep, while he and Kageyama move just like they know how—sometimes things are fast, and frantic, but this morning they are slow, unhurried, floating on the mood of the early hour. The sunrise leads them on languorously; the day, it seems, will wait for them.

“More,” Kageyama says gruffly. Hinata purrs, and passes a hand down between his own thighs, thin fingers playing with the underside of Kageyama’s shaft. He holds him in place, and Kageyama gives an appreciative little moan, twisting his face to cup his lips against Hinata’s neck, sucking and laving gently at his skin.

The space between Hinata’s thighs is damp: it is a combination of the warmth of the bed, of Kageyama, leaking onto his skin, and of the night prior, when the two of them had been too exhausted to thoroughly clean up their mess. Kageyama glides easily through the slick space, breathing hotly into Hinata’s neck. His movements are erratic, but not in the way Hinata is used to; they aren’t frantic or desperate, not like they get when he is close, driving himself on.

Today, his movements are sleepily sporadic, as though he is nodding off, pulled under for seconds at a time before he remembers where he is, what he’s doing. He does so now, stilling completely, this time, and for longer. Hinata counts to ten before he adjusts his touch to tease the pad of one finger around Kageyama’s head, spreading a pearl of pre-cum out over him. Kageyama gasps and jerks awake, twitching at the touch, and shudders out a stunted breath.

“We can sleep,” Hinata says, “if you’re too tired.”

Kageyama shakes his head into Hinata’s neck.

“Tired,” he says again, sounding almost _petulant_ , and much like a stubborn child would, he continues on regardless. Hinata turns his grin into the pillows and huffs out a breath, as Kageyama’s hips pull back and slide forward, the head of his cock catching on Hinata’s rim—still slick, puffy and humiliatingly pliant from the night before—before slipping sharply forward once more.

“Like that,” Hinata breathes, nodding, _urging_ , as Kageyama does it again, pressing harder this time, the pressure enough to still the air in Hinata’s lungs in anticipation. And once more, Kageyama slips forward, away from his hole, into the tight squeeze of his thighs. “ _Tobio_.”

“Y’ not ready,” Kageyama grunts sleepily into his skin.

“It’s fine.”

Kageyama lifts his head from the crook of Hinata’s neck, and reaches up a hand, twisting Hinata’s face towards him by the jaw. He kisses him, for the first time this morning, soft and gentle and entirely too sleepy, and when he is done, he presses his forehead hard to Hinata’s own, and grinds his hips a little harder.

“You’ll get hurt,” he says, even as he catches at him again. Hinata _whines_.

“Just go slow,” Hinata says. Kageyama shakes his head. He feels weighty, where his forehead is pressed to Hinata’s own, like his head is too heavy for his neck to hold up. Even as his hips move, he sways, propped up on his elbow, and his eyes flutter closed and stay that way. Hinata whines again, and lifts a leg, hooking it back over Kageyama’s hip.

“Please,” Hinata breathes. Kageyama doesn’t react, only breathes deeply, barely even conscious in the early hour.

Hinata guides Kageyama with two fingers pressed to the underside of his shaft. He adjusts his own hips, canting them just so, until Kageyama’s head presses up against him, and then, he slides back, _slowly_ , agonisingly slowly, fingers holding Kageyama in place until finally, _finally_ , he starts to slip in.

Hinata’s relieved little, _“yes_ ,” choking desperately from his throat, is enough for Kageyama to wake, and he does so with a catching gasp, and an insistent urge of his hips, driving himself a little deeper into Hinata’s tight heat.

Hinata gasps, too, and reaches an urgent hand back to still Kageyama’s hips. He isn’t ready for too much too fast, isn’t stretched, or _prepared_.

“ _Slow_ ,” he says. “Let— _aah_ —let me?”

Kageyama nods his head groggily, and lowers it back to the pillows, twisting his face into the plush fabric where Hinata’s messy, knotted hair rests. Hinata eases himself back onto Kageyama’s length agonisingly slowly—a few times, he is sure Kageyama must drift, for he starts, now and then, with a gasp or a whine or a cry, as Hinata sinks further onto him, until finally, _finally_ , they rest flush together.

Hinata pants softly, and Kageyama’s fingers squeeze into the skin of his waist.

“Okay?” Kageyama asks. Hinata nods his head. He is sweating, shiny and dripping with exertion, the skin of his back slick where it slides against Kageyama’s chest.

“Let—let me,” Hinata says, again, and slowly, he rolls his hips, dragging Kageyama out of him and pushing him back in. It’s hard work, hot in the warmth of the room, and it is exhausting, burning his muscles, but Hinata moved himself the best way he knows how—with slow, torturous rolls of his hips, working Kageyama deeper inside him.

Kageyama lets Hinata fuck himself with quiet praises, some mindless moans and some words, whispered in his ear, hummed into his neck— _you feel so good_ , and, _f—fuck, Shouyou_ , and, _keep—like that_ —until his patience wears out, until his body can wait no longer. Then, he grips Hinata about the waist, both arms curling tight around him, driving himself on, and Hinata is helpless to him.

“Yam—Yama— _aah—ha_ —oh god oh god—I’m—”

He babbles, mindless, as Kageyama thrusts into him, wrapped tight and close, humping into him in short, shallow jerks, rolls of his hips that work Hinata until he is keening, desperate for more.

Kageyama eases his desperation with little hushes, with a soft, “ _quiet_ , Shou—I know, I know,” and with touches, a hand wrapped around Hinata’s hardened cock, another at his chest, teasing and rolling a nipple between his talented fingers, and with his lips and tongue, playing the skin near Hinata’s ear until he is near weeping.

“Please—I need to—Yama, I’m gonna come—” Hinata rasps. Kageyama kisses at his cheek and nods against the side of his face, presses his forehead hard to Hinata’s temple.

“Yeah,” he grunts, breathless, “me too.”

And in the warmth of the morning, with the sunrise lulling them on, with the world around them patient, and waiting, they finish, a heady, sleep-fuelled mix of stunted breaths and panted cries, and when they settle, the morning settles with them, still and quiet. The birds beyond the window chirp peacefully on, and a car in the distance rumbles down the lonely road, and in the room, the morning shrouds them in their afterglow.

In the warmth of the morning, they lie, curled beneath the bedclothes, whispers of _in a minute_ and _you can shower first_ and _now I’m all sticky_, _Bakageyama_ heavy on the air, they tumble, together, back into the waiting arms of sleep.

  


 

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: someone-stole-my-shoes


End file.
